


call me by that name

by murakamism



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Post-Bendemption, Praise Kink, Unresolved Sexual Tension, no actual smut, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 06:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakamism/pseuds/murakamism
Summary: In the absence of any other father figures, Rey takes to calling Ben Solo "Daddy".





	call me by that name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AttackoftheDarkCurses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AttackoftheDarkCurses/gifts).



> Prompt: Canonverse, someone has to explain to Rey that calling Ben "daddy" in public isn't a great idea. Bonus points if it's Leia.
> 
> So your prompt was HILARIOUS and I loved it the most! I really wish that I could be more faithful and do it more justice, but I wasn't sure how to perfectly combine the humor, characterization, and kink. I still hope that you enjoy this (or that another writer also fills this prompt), because I loved writing it!!

It starts as a joke.

  
  
Their new base lies inside the mouth of an old cave, dark and looming. From the outside, nothing is visible except an outcrop of rock and the stray seabird. This planet is ancient but desolate, even more primal with its simple wildlife.   
  
But what they need right now is a place to hide and regroup, and hiding, it seems, is what this place was made for.   
  
Leia and the other Resistance leaders (or what's left of them) spend their days cataloguing inventory and planning missions. Rather than vanguard attacks nowadays they focus on stealth runs — just for survival. It isn't wild and heroic, but it is necessary.   
  
And quite frankly boring.   
  
There's only so much training that Rey can complete each day. By the time noon sweeps around, all of her chores are completed, and she has nothing better to do than kick pebbles around their rocky beach. A bird caws overhead, its gray wings a mere dot against the white sky.   
  
She's spent a week walking down the length of the beach. But no matter how far she goes, she only sees more of the same thing. The waves are unpredictable: calm one morning and then violently thrashing the next. With nothing else to do the rest of the Resistance prefers staying inside.

Today the water is calm: smooth and gray. Rey wonders how deep it is, what lies underneath the surface. This planet reminds her of Ach-to, and she can’t help but hope that there are other creatures here — anything new to discover.

When she turns her head around, eyes squinting underneath the sun, she sees nothing but the same flat rocky ground and the occasional boulder. But something catches her eye: something black perched up high on top of a giant stone.

Is it a bird’s nest? The black thing looks soft and fluffy, almost feathered. Rey approaches, her neck craned up to look. As she takes a single step, the pebbles crunch beneath her feet. The sound is loud enough in the emptiness.

The birds nest shifts. Then she realizes it’s a mop of hair — long and dark, strangely familiar — and Rey’s eyes are wide as its owner’s face comes into view. A long, pale face stares at her. Even with the distance between them, she recognizes that plush scowl, those piercing eyes.

“Ben?” she calls out. The side of his mouth twitches and he pulls away, as if embarrassed.

“Rey,” he replies simply. His voice is hoarse, but it’s carried by a breeze. Rey blinks up at him.

“What are you doing up there?” she asks, a laugh already threatening to cross her lips. She’s never run into anyone during her excursions, and the idea of Ben Solo hiding on top of a giant rock is  _ hilarious _ . 

So this is where he is. She never sees him around the base anymore. These days all she catches is a glimpse of him: a skulking shadow, a silhouette, a dream behind Leia’s walls. He doesn’t eat with the rest of them either, which she supposes Leia had agreed on... for everyone’s sake.

Her smile falls. A ball of guilt coils in her belly.

“What are  _ you _ doing  _ here _ ?” He counters. Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“I’m going out for a dip,” she replies. She lifts her leg towards the water, gesturing a swim. Ben frowns even harder now. He has to look down just to talk to her, and his long curls fall upon his face. She wants to cut them for him.

“You shouldn’t.” He says sharply. “Do you even know how to swim?”

Rey flares up.

“I’m just going in the water. I’m not dumb.”

“The waves might be too strong.”

Rey’s jaw drops open. She rushes towards the shoreline and gestures to the placid, open sea. “I don’t see any waves. Do you?”

“The currents — ”

“I’ll be fine, Ben,” she snaps. “I can be in a large body of water and  _ not _ drown, thank you.” 

He grits his teeth. Rey kicks off her boots before he can climb down and argue with her some more.

She hurriedly pulls up her trouser legs before running into the sea. The water is cold, and the freezing temperature sends a shock through her body. Still, small waves lap around her ankles, and she grins at the foreign sensation of submerging her legs. The rocks are stable under her feet, and she takes wobbling, fawn-like steps even deeper into the water.

The chill isn’t too bad once she’s gotten used to it. Rey washes her palms and throws up handfuls of seawater into the air. Her thighs grow heavy with her waterlogged pants, but she feels refreshed, almost reborn.

She turns back to the beach. Ben stands by the shoreline. He’s an imposing figure: arms crossed over his broad chest, a frown on his face, clear as day even all those feet away. Even with the scar darkening his cheek, he looks grumpy and harmless. She’s surprised to find him dressed in simple pants and a chunky green sweater, almost faded.

“See!” Rey calls out. She lifts her arms up in a wave. “The water’s fine.”

Ben doesn’t reply, but she sees the way his shoulders heave in a sigh.

“You can stop  _ watching over  _ me now.” She adds. Ben raises a single brow, and she turns away, out into the horizon. She considers practicing her swimming; it’s been so long since that last time, since they stopped by a greener planet and Finn had taught her how.

When she takes her next step, she almost falters. The seabed is slanted steeply, and the water is much deeper here, even if she isn’t even that far from shore. When Rey steadies herself, arms held out above the water, she feels a violent force knocking her legs.

Her eyes are wide. The seafloor is sand now, no longer rock. Her toes skid across the crumbling surface, and as she slips into the water, she finds that her entire body is submerged. Rey struggles to stand up, struggles to find purchase, struggles to distinguish up from down.

The seawater stings her eyes. Everything is dark and cold, and whenever she kicks forward, her heels are caught in the pull of an underwater current. Rey holds her breath but her chest is starting to hurt, and when she turns away her elbow drags painfully against a rock.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there struggling. Her heart pounds in her chest. Her lungs are burning. Rey reaches out, desperate for something —

Solid fingers grasp her arm.

Rey is pulled upwards. Her body is cradled in strong arms, shielding her from the current. The pressure is heavy against her but she makes it up, up, until the heat of the sun shines on her face.

She shuts her eyes tight and coughs, the taste of salt thick on her lips. She grips onto her savior, but he’s already holding her tightly, securely, as both of them head towards the shore.

Rey’s knees crumble and fall onto solid rocky ground. She crawls forward until the waves have stopped lapping the soles of her feet. Her body is weighed down by her soaked clothes, and she presses her palms to the ground to keep herself up. She’s freezing, she realizes. Freezing, trembling, the sensation of her clothes sticking to her like a second skin.

But Ben is warm around her, even as the wet fabric of his own shirt presses against her arms. She blinks and wipes away the wetness from her lashes. Ben wraps her in something dry, maneuvers her arms until he’s tugged his green sweater over her torso.

“Rey. Rey.”

It’s only then that she realizes that he’s been calling her name. His voice is frantic but subdued, soft, low. His arm wraps around her back, and he holds her face up towards the sky. She grips the back of his collar.

When her vision clears, finally free of stray droplets, she finds him staring down at her with wide, liquid eyes.

Rey’s mouth parts but no words come out.

“Are you all right?” he asks. He wipes the wet hair away from her forehead with a large palm. Rey gazes up at him, frozen in his arms.

“Y-yes,” she responds. She coughs and turns her head. She hadn’t swallowed much water; she’s fine. Just exhausted. Afraid.

“Let’s get you back inside,” he murmurs. Ben picks her up seamlessly, and Rey wishes she were more embarrassed. But she isn’t, not at all. Even with her clothes drenched, the sun shines on her face, Ben’s sweater is loose over her body, and his arms are warm and solid underneath her.

She clings to him and sniffs, turns her head so she won’t have to look at his face.

There are so many things she could say. She could thank him. She could protest. She could bite back.

Instead, Ben ruins it by saying, “Aren’t you glad I was there?”

Rey huffs.

“I’m glad,” he continues. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

She presses her face into his chest out of embarrassment. She sways in his arms as he takes slow steps towards the base.

“I could teach you how to swim,” he offers.

“I know how to swim. I just didn’t realize there was a current underneath,” she replies, voice muffled.

_ I panicked. _

Ben is silent for a while. There’s no sound but that of his footsteps. Rey waits for him to gloat, to tell her  _ I told you so. _

“That happened to me too when I was a child,” Ben replies softly. She lifts her head to hear the rest of his whisper. “I almost drowned. I didn’t realize how strong the tide was.”

Rey looks at him, traces the shape of his hair, his jaw, with her vision.

“What happened?” she asks him.

Ben looks forward, his gaze steely. She can see him clench his jaw.

“Han — My father saved me.”

“Oh.”

They both grow silent. Rey clings to him, and the clumps of her damp hair soak the front of his sweater. She stares at the rocky ground, stares at their shadows across the stones.

As the cave comes into view, Ben slows down. Rey grips his shoulder even as she speaks. Her lips are cold.

“Thank you,” she says tightly. “I think I can walk now.”

He sets her down without another word. Rey’s feet are unsteady for a moment, but he keeps a gentle hand on her shoulder. Rey looks up at him, looks up to meet his concerned gaze.

He really does look like Han, Rey thinks.

She resists the urge to reach out and touch his damp face. Now that she’s standing upright, there’s a greater distance between them.

Rey nods and turns away before he can see the heat flooding her cheeks.

It’s odd, she thinks. Is that what it feels like to be cradled? To be comforted?

She’s not sure.

For now she’ll refuse to think about it.

 

  
  
The mess hall is almost empty in the late afternoon.

Rey wanders in because there’s a storm outside and she’s got nothing else to do. She knows Finn and Poe are in the hangar, chatting and exchanging war stories with the other pilots and new recruits. But Rey is sick of it, sick of being stared at like she’s some sort of legend.

To her pleasant surprise, she finds that the mess hall isn’t all deserted. The chairs and tables in the middle have been cleared. Shana, a newly minted Resistance member, stands in the middle, holding the hands of her toddler son while he waddles between her legs.

The boy is small but energetic. He laughs loudly, voice bubbling with nonsense. Shana grins, and upon Rey’s arrival, points her son in the girl’s direction.

Rey coos and approaches. She squats down until she’s face to face with the boy. He grabs at her hair with his chubby hands, and Rey laughs even when he pulls at her strands.

“Sorry,” Shana says, looking at her son fondly. “He loves playing with other people.”

“He’s  _ adorable,”  _ Rey responds. “Ow-ow, that’s my hair!”

She hears a chuckle sounding from across the room. Rey turns her head and sees Ben sitting in the shadows, too big for his own chair that’s pushed snugly up against the wall. He sits with an empty food tray. When their eyes meet, she can swear that a smile passes by his lips. A small one, quick and fleeting.

The boy turns his head to see what it is Rey’s staring at. Upon seeing Ben, his eyes grow wide. He releases Rey’s hair and then runs towards the seated man, his tiny arms outstretched, his tiny feet threatening to topple.

“Ba-ba!” he screams. “Ba! Ba!”

Shana can only look on and cover her mouth with a hand. Ben blinks, looking overwhelmed, as he sits still. As the boy nears, he trips over thin air, and comes crashing down onto the floor.

“Francis!” Shana gasps. But before she can rush forward, Ben is already on the ground. He lays a careful hand on the boy’s back.

“Are you hurt?” Ben asks. It’s dumb; the boy can’t even talk yet — but he does release a loud cry with his powerful lungs. Ben frowns, lips quivering in concern, as the boy sits up and buries his wet face in the older man’s knee.

Ben slowly inspects the boy’s head, pushing back his hair to check for any bruises. Shana almost skids to a stop in front of him as she reaches for her son.

“He’s fine,” he tells her. Shana nods without a word, and waits for Ben to carefully extract the boy’s grip from his leg. The tiny child hiccups loudly, snot running down his face, as Ben lifts him up by the armpits to set him back in his mother’s arms.

Shana double checks her son, making sure that he’s really okay.

“You should be more careful,” she murmurs, even as the boy rubs his eyes. “I got worried…”

Shana exits the mess hall, her son in her arms. Rey slowly approaches Ben, watches as he stands up to his full height. Even when he towers over her, his expression is soft. She smiles at him shyly.

“Baba?” she asks, teasing. Ben rubs his arm.

“He’s too small to play with the other kids,” Ben replies. “I don’t know why he always runs to me.”

Rey can’t wipe the grin off her face.

“You’d make a great dad.”

Ben’s face turns pink. He swallows.

“That’s not—”

“Baba? Dada?” Rey croons. She goes up on her tiptoes, encouraged by his reddening cheeks. “Daddy Benny —

“Rey!”

“You always get super overprotective,” Rey hums. “And you dress like a dad now. You laugh at the worst jokes ever.”

Ben’s face is pinched. 

“Rey, I’ve killed — ”

“Mhhm.”

Ben reels backwards. 

“You always act like you can teach me something,” Rey adds. “And the way you handled Francis awhile ago? It was  _ sweet,  _ Ben.”

“Stop… talking about that.”

“Why are you so flustered?” Rey laughs. “I was just saying. You’ve changed… Daddy.”

As soon as the word leaves her lips, she feels a mixture of mortification and elation. Ben’s mouth drops open wide enough to accommodate flies. Rey giggle snorts at his expression.

His ears burn bright red. The tips peek through his hair.

“What did you call me?” he asks, voice tight.

“Is something wrong, Daddy?” Rey asks too innocently. She revels in the way his face constricts.

“Um, I… I have to go.”

Ben bolts out of the room. Rey blinks, watching as he goes. Oh.

She can  _ use _ this.

  
  
  


“Don’t forget to keep your form tight,” Ben tells her, hovering by her side. His hands are folded behind his back, and his eyes are narrowed and sharp. Rey holds up her pose, saber in the air.

“Open your legs wider,” he adds. “That way you’re more stable.”

Rey drags her feet open a mere millimeter.

“...Even wider than that.”

“I can fight normally this way.”

Ben steps closer. His foot scoots between her legs until it rests against the inside of hers, and he pushes her leg outwards until she’s forced to widen her stance. Rey’s grip on her saber falters as her palms begin to sweat — Ben is close, too close, his giant body pressed up against hers.

“That’s not what I asked,” he replies. They’re close enough that she feels his breath against her ear. “You wanted help with training? Then you’ll master these forms. We do it my way.”

Rey widens her stance without a word. Ben pulls away. 

“Okay,” he says. “Try swinging again, but this time, just use your arms.”

Rey brings her unignited saber down in a steep arc. It barely misses Ben — a few strands of his hair fly up with the wind — but it does make a sharp whooshing sound, the kind that would be deadly if it were lighted.

“Good,” he says. He doesn’t smile, and his voice is flat, but when Rey looks into his eyes she’s sure that he’s proud. A tiny bubble of warmth bursts in her chest. “How does it feel now that you’ve used this form?”

“I definitely used less energy,” Rey ponders. “And with that speed, a blow would be  _ dangerous. _ ”

Now his lips have curved up into a smile.

“You’re welcome,” he tells her, obviously teasing. He puffs out his chest, looking like a haughty porg. Rey’s arms fall to her sides.

And then because Rey wants to wipe that smug grin off his face, she smiles sweetly up at him.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she croons. Ben stares at her, and the whiplash in his expression is priceless. His eyes are wide open and blinking, his jaw unclenching as redness floods his cheeks.

“Wh-What-Why are you still…”

He struggles for the right words. Instantly, Ben’s giant frame folds into itself as his face glows crimson. He can’t look at her now; instead he stares at a spot above her shoulder.

Rey doesn’t feel bad for him, not really. That’s why she continues to stare at him, grinning as she watches and waits for him to collect himself. Eventually Ben swallows, and he finds the courage to look at her with a straight face.

“Rey, I’m not your father,” he says seriously.

Rey snorts.

“Of course I know that,” she replies. “It’s a  _ joke.  _ You’re acting paternal again.”

“Am I?” His brows are furrowed in concern. It’s  _ adorable _ .

“You know,” Rey gestures towards him. “Offering guidance. Being blunt when you teach. And then praising me after.”

_ Aren’t those paternal things?  _ Rey wonders.  _ Is this what a father does?  _

Ben looks like he’s halfway to cardiac arrest.

Rey approaches, her hands folded behind her back. She thinks about the way he is sometimes: strong and dependable, a pillar she can lean on. He’s gruff and quiet and much too grumpy, but he does care. He cares for her in a way that no one else does, that she hasn’t ever felt before.

She smiles, small and genuine, before going up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek.

“It’s a compliment,” she whispers, pulling away from the chaste kiss. He seems frozen, unable to do anything but stare at her with brilliant brown eyes. “Take it, Ben.”

He opens his mouth but no words come out. When their eyes meet, Rey feels a spark running down her spine — sharp and tingling, almost electric. She swallows and pulls back, aware of the heat on her cheeks mirroring his. It’s an innocent kiss, the kind that she’s seen exchanged between Finn and Rose, between Shana and Francis, between Jessika and Poe.

She turns on her heel and runs away, waving her hand with a garbled excuse about helping to serve lunch.

  
  
  


She avoids Ben for a week. It’s an agonizingly slow one, and her only reprieve is when Rose recruits her for help with the base generators. Time passes easily between the two girls; it flashes by in a haze of grease and electrons and idle chatter. 

Maybe Ben avoids her too, but he avoids everyone. She isn’t actively looking anyway… at least that’s what she tells herself.

And if her temper flares more often, if her heart aches longingly, well. That must be a coincidence.

She purposely avoids the beach. She skips out on their next training session, and doesn’t dare to visit the spot even hours later for fear that she’ll find Ben waiting. He never drops by the mess hall during the usual lunch and dinner hours anyway; Rey takes full advantage of that.

And so the week passes, and Rey grows both relieved and scared.

When the time for their second training session arrives, Rey spends it hiding in the hangar. She’s lying underneath a starship’s wing, staring intensely at a collection of frayed wires.

Something pulls her leg.

Rey scowls and then scoots away, peeking out into open air. She sees a pair of solid boots, traces up the rest of the intruder’s body with her gaze. Solid boots, long legs, a muscular torso, and —

Oh. Ben’s scowl. He has his arms crossed over his chest.

Rey gets up to face him even if her stomach turns.

“You’ve been avoiding training,” he says gruffly. Rey swallows, because they both know what he really means:  _ You’ve been avoiding  _ me.

“I’ve been busy,” she replies, waving a hand to her set of tools. Ben doesn’t even glance at them.

“I’m sure that freight hauler that’s been broken for a  _ decade _ needed your absolute attention right this moment.”

Rey stands up, hackles rising.

“I’m sorry I skipped, all right?” She clenches her hands into fists. “You don’t have to do all this.”

He looks affronted. “You asked me to — ”

“I asked you for help with the texts. I mastered those ages ago. You didn’t have to teach me all about the Forms. You didn’t have to hunt me down. I’m never going to be a proper Jedi — ”

“This isn’t about being a proper Jedi!” he hisses. “You know that I, out of all people, would understand that.”

Rey doesn’t understand why she’s angry, why she’s spitting fire. Something coils in her belly, dark and frustrated, and she doesn’t  _ get why.  _ Ben’s eyes are a liquid brown, the kind she sees on Porgs and puppies, and it snaps her patience in half.

“Don’t you get it?” Ben almost screams. “I was worried!”

Rey stills. Her eyes grow wide and her jaw goes slack. Ben boils with anger, and Rey inhales sharply. 

“I can take care of myself just fine,  _ Daddy.” _

His eyes snap out of fury so swiftly that she’s almost afraid she’s broken him.

His voice comes out strangled.

“Rey,” he murmurs darkly. His voice vibrates with an intensity that matches her own, that soothes the ache in her belly. “Don’t do this right now.”

“I’m not a child to be taken care of,” Rey insists. “Stop worrying.”

“I know you’re not a child,” He swallows. “Just, please, I thought ... ”

He cuts himself off. The hangar is silent between the two of them. The air is stale. Ben and Rey stare at each other, neither one moving a muscle. Rey’s shoulders fall.

“Thought what?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I thought that you hated me.”

Rey shakes her head. She wants to step closer, but her feet are frozen to the ground.

“I don’t hate you, Ben.”

He glances down. “You stopped going to the beach.”

“You’ve been watching?” Her voice rises. He still refuses to meet her gaze. Instead, he swallows, and Rey trails the bob of his throat. 

She can’t hate him. Not now.

He grunts.

“Oh, Ben.” She speaks without thinking. “Join us in the mess hall for once, okay?”

His head snaps up. “What?”

Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes. “The mess hall. For dinner. I never see you around the base anymore; it’s nice to at least know whether or not you’re dead.”

Ben’s lips start to turn down. “That’s...”

“Do it,” Rey insists. She tries to smile. “For me.”

He’s staring at her with liquid eyes again. She can’t decipher his expression, but she can see the gears turning in his head.

“Okay,” he says.

  
  
  
Rey can tell that he’s arrived once the mess hall descends into hushed silence.

She looks up from her still-full plate to find that Ben is standing in the doorway, his figure hunched in the entrance. His dark eyes dart left and right, and one leg is already twisted away, ready to bolt. Rey spares him the attention.

“Here, Ben!” she calls out. Ben’s eyes snap up to hers, and he approaches gracefully, gratefully.

Finn’s mouth falls open. He leans into Rey’s ear.

“Rey?” he whispers. “What’s going on?”

“I invited Ben to dinner,” Rey beams.

“You invited  _ Kylo Ren  _ to dinner.”

Rey frowns, but she doesn’t move her gaze away from Ben’s.

“You know he’s been training me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different!”

Ben arrives and takes the only free seat — the one directly in front of Rey and beside Poe. Rose and Poe have been quiet until this moment. As Ben pulls the chair away with a screech, he makes eye contact with everyone in the table. The noise pulls them out of their reverie.

“Hey, Solo,” Poe drawls. He moves to clap Ben on the shoulder but then decides against it at the last second. “Haven’t seen your face in so long. I almost forgot what you looked like.”

Ben shoots him a glare but doesn’t respond.

The mess hall resumes its idle chatter. Everyone ignores their table now, but that doesn’t mean that Rey’s friends have relaxed.

Rose stares at his scar. He turns away but takes his seat.

“The food’s good,” Rey says, because she doesn’t know what else to do. The silence between them all is deafening. Ben only wrinkles his nose at the portions.

“It’s haute cuisine,” he agrees blankly.

“It’s supposed to be packed full of ‘nutrients’,” Poe chimes in naturally. He grins, and Rey is grateful that he’s at least trying to achieve some normalcy. She knows that him and Ben knew each other as children — even if that was a lifetime ago. “But I warn you: the broth tastes like engine coolant.”

Ben’s lips twitch. They don’t exactly form into a smile.

“I wouldn’t know what that tastes like,” he replies, voice low.

“Never had your ship get flooded because of a busted pipe?” Poe asks.

“I don’t normally crash my ships.”

Poe’s jaw falls open in fake shock. “You think I’d crash my baby  _ on purpose _ , Solo?”

Finn finally chuckles. Ben shifts in his seat, and his voice is so low that Rey barely catches his words.

“Please don’t call me that,” he murmurs.

Poe raises a brow. “What,  _ Solo _ ?”

“Yes, that.” Ben grits his teeth.

“What would you prefer — ”

“Okay, Kylo Ren,” Finn interrupts. “I have a question. Are you a Sith? Are you teaching Rey Sith stuff — ”

Rey presses her palms against Finn’s cheek.

“Finn!”

“No,” Ben replies calmly. “I’m not a Sith. And everything I’ve taught Rey is based on Jedi texts and tradition.”

“I always forget that you used to be a Jedi.”

“I was never a Jedi.”

“Then why are you qualified to — ”

“You think you could help us steal some TIE fighters, Ren?” Poe slides in smoothly. Ben raises a brow.

“No, not until Hux lets his guard down. And please don’t call me Ren.”

“Okay, padawan.”

Rey snorts. Ben shoots her a glare.

“I have a name, flyboy.” Ben mutters.

“Yeah, you sound like General Sux,” Rose wrinkles her nose.

A twinkle of amusement flashes through Ben’s eyes.

“Sooo, Master of the Knights of Ren,” Poe starts. He starts snickering.

“What, commander-crash-ship?”

“I’m just surprised you joined us, Mr. Ten Step Hair Routine.”

“Rey asked me to, Outdated Leather Jacket Club Captain.”

Poe gasps. “This is called vintage fashion, Solo!”

Rey snorts. “Pass me the water, daddy.”

Ben’s still glaring at Poe. While maintaining eye contact, his hand shoots out in reflex, grasping the water container in the middle of the table. And then he blinks, as if only then realizing what he’s done. He retreats his hand as if burned, long fingers flexing in his lap.

Finn chokes on his bread.

Rey busies herself with slapping her friend on the back. Poe looks away from Ben’s half-steely half-mortified glare to gape at Rey instead. She isn’t sure whether his face shows more horror or glee.

Rose coughs something into her sleeve. Rey doesn’t hear it.

“ _ Oh,”  _ Poe’s voice rises in pitch. “So when you said Rey asked you to come — ”

Finn’s coughing interrupts him. 

Ben swallows visibly, his Adam’s apple prominent against his throat.

“Sorry, man,” Poe continues. He nods gravely. “I didn’t know you and Rey had that kind of relationship.”

Ben’s face burns as red as the salt tracks on Crait. He shakes his head wildly.

Three of them speak up over each other at the exact same time.

“We don’t.” Ben says, right as Rey nervously laughs “Of course he isn’t  _ really  _ my daddy, Poe.” and Rose caps it off with a thoughtful “I guess we should all call you Ben now that you’re part of the family.”

Ben groans and buries his face in his hands. He shifts, as if about to bolt away. Rey kicks his leg underneath the table, signalling him to  _ stay. _

He pouts. Stupid big brown porg eyes.

Then he inhales sharply, as if to steel himself. Rey notes that he refuses to look at anyone as he speaks.

“It’s… It’s just a joke. I don’t know why Rey keeps calling me that. But I’m not,” he wheezes. “We aren’t…”

Their table goes still. Ben flounders for the right words. Eventually, Poe takes pity on him and claps him on the shoulder. He nods once.

“It’s okay,” he tells Ben sagely. “We don’t shame anyone here. As long as it’s safe and consensual. Are you being a good daddy to Rey?”

“He’s too good,” Rey mumbles around a forkful.

Ben drops his forehead onto the table.

  
  
  


“I don’t get what’s so wrong with it,” Rey whispers. They’re crowded together in an abandoned corridor near the back of the base. Ben had had twitched his eye and demanded she meet him after dinner. “I think it’s funny. Do you really hate it that much?”

Ben runs a hand across his face. He sighs, cheeks still tinged pink. Rey can’t help but smile.

“I just…” he lowers his voice. “I would highly prefer it if you didn’t call me that in public.”

Rey raises a brow. She scoots closer until she’s crowded him against the wall. He may be taller, but he hunches down to talk to her properly. With barely an inch between them, he emanates heat like a furnace. A wide grin forms on Rey’s lips.

“You don’t want me to call you that in public,” Rey murmurs. “But you’re okay with it in private?”

Ben’s jaw drops open.

“Rey!” 

“Are you really embarrassed? I thought you liked it, Daddy.”

She goes up on her tiptoes and lifts her chin until the edge of her jaw presses against the muscled flesh of his shoulders. He tenses up, muscles rippling, but doesn’t push her away. Rey gazes up with amused eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, breathless. He shifts on his feet, hips pressing even harder against the wall. 

“Let’s make a deal,” Rey says. “You let me spar using whatever style I want, you socialize more with other people on base —Poe actually cares about you, you know— and I’ll be good. What do you think?”

He whines in his throat.

“How exactly…” His voice is husky against the shell of her ear. Rey can’t resist the shiver that runs down her spine. “How exactly are you going to be good to me, Rey?”

She brushes her fingers against the exposed skin of his wrist. It’s a mere millisecond of contact, and yet her hand burns.

His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t hold her.

“Oh, you’ll find out, Daddy.”

He heaves a shuddering breath, his large chest trembling. The air grows warm between them, warm and electric with a hint of spark. Rey leans up on her tiptoes and she swears she feels Ben about to meet her —

Something shuffles in the corridor. Rey and Ben break apart, the moment now ruined. But when they look around, the hallway is empty.

 

  
  
  
They’ve gained quite a crowd by the next time they spar.

Perhaps Ben’s appearance at the mess hall and joking around with Poe Dameron has loosened everyone’s reservations. Perhaps their curiosity has finally overcome the animosity. Or maybe they just want to see Rey of Jakku kick his ass.

She was close to it, honestly. But then Ben overpowered her at the last second—igniting a spark within her that burned her to the core.

Their wooden sabers meet together with a sharp thud. Rey stabs and jerks, shooting out her wooden blade to various points on Ben’s body. He blocks each attack and then traps her saber, cutting her off mid-swing and forcing her to battle it out with brute strength.

Rey grunts as she’s freed. She takes two steps backwards and then two steps forward. They engage each other in a fiery dance: nimble legs tangling together as if in a waltz, eyes focused on each other’s, breaths in sync, arms moving on instinct, blades clashing and swinging and hard enough to kill.

Ben sweeps out his leg to trip her over. Rey leaps out of the way to avoid him, and then aims at his unguarded side. He presses her blade away with his own at the last second to avoid a painful collision. Rey grins, her lungs heaving, as she makes eye contact.

Ben smirks.

He spins around and puts all of his weight into the next blow. Rey jumps away to avoid it and then slides down to attack him from behind. He spins, a millisecond too late, and the two of them stab their blades at the same time.

Time freezes. Their bodies are still.

Rey and Ben stare at each other, their eyes burning brilliantly, their chests heaving with exhaustion.

Ben’s blade presses into the soft fabric of Rey’s shirt: right above her chest.

Rey’s blade nudges the base of his throat.

He breathes. Rey smiles at him and licks her lips.

“Smart girl,” he grumbles. His lips barely move, but Rey feels his voice flood her limbs. She doesn’t pull away. The desire pools in her belly. No one else has heard him except her.

“Are you going to go harder on me next time, Daddy?”

His pupils dilate and grow blacker.

Someone cheers. Rey snaps up, finally remembering that there are people watching. The two of them pull away, their blades safely out of reach of each other’s vital points. When Rey turns to the crowd, she can’t help the heat that already floods her face.

Still, nobody comments. A couple of other Resistance members idly chat with each other, nodding or shaking their heads. And… are some of them exchanging credits? Did some of them bet on the match? Rey stares, her brows furrowed. Ben picks up both of their wooden sabers and puts them away.

She turns towards him, ignoring everyone else. His face grows harsh once more. Rey is distracted by the bead of sweat that trails down his temple. She clears her throat.

“Nice match,” she croaks. Ben nods at her, and she can swear he’s smirking.

He leans down, his lips brushing her ear.

“Do you  _ want  _ me to be rougher next time?” he whispers. 

And then he stands back up, gathers the sticks in his arms, and then walks away to hide them back on base. Rey stands there, gaping at his large back. She clenches and unclenches her empty fists at her sides.

Someone wolf-whistles behind her.

Rey throws a glare at the crowd but nobody meets her eyes. She huffs and rushes away, her cheeks burning, her thighs trembling.

 

 

  
So then it becomes a game.

A brush against a shoulder. Elbows pressed together for a second. Ben’s dark eyes when he watches her go out for another swim. Rey’s own gaze, blinking at him from beneath her lashes, when she asks him sweetly for a rematch.

Maintaining eye contact when she takes a particularly large bite of her bread, tongue darting out to lick at its sauce. Ben standing over her, body large and looming, crowding her against the stones when he comments on her form  _ again.  _ Rey kicking him in the shin, being stopped at the last moment by his tight grip on her leg. Warm fingers pressing tightly against her calf, burning her skin even with the fabric of her pants between them.

She purposefully becomes as irritating as a fly on the wall during their next training session. Just to see how he’ll react.

(Just to see if he’ll get rid of that stick up his ass)

She expects a heavy breath, a heavy hand on her chin. Without realizing it, the fantasies have crowded her brain: Ben’s lush lips producing a deep growl, an “I thought you said you were going to be a good girl for me.”

Oh, she won’t admit it, but she does love being called good. She  _ preens. _

And yet her fantasies don’t always translate to reality. Ben chokes when she steps too close to him again, whispering sweet temptations in his ear. A dark growl erupts from his throat. She thinks that finally, finally, he will do something different, will meet her where she needs it the most.

Instead he storms off, grumbling about the weather and having to cool off.

_ Huh _ , Rey thinks.  _ I thought you were going to be harder on me. _

  
  
  


“Are you still sulking, Daddy?” Rey asks. She bends down until her chin is almost resting on Ben’s shoulder. He’s seated on the ground, his back to her. He should have sensed her coming, should have sensed her presence in the Force. He does flinch infinitesimally, but only when Rey purrs out the last word.

He slowly turns his head towards her. Ben meets her gaze with a disapproving frown.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, voice level.

“Last night,” she replies.  _ When we argued about Force training and I called you a _ —

Someone clears their throat. Ben and Rey glance up to find Poe standing in front of them, helmet under his arm. He’s all suited up. 

“My team’s doing practice drills,” he explains, waving a gloved hand. He throws them both a brilliant grin. “But we’re short one pilot. Wanna join us on a test run, Solo?”

Ben shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t think Pava would trust me with her ship.”

Poe laughs. “Why? Are you going to crash it?”

“I’m too rusty.” And then, after a moment of silence. “Maybe next time.”

Poe nods. “‘Kay then.”

“Still have space for one pilot?” Rey pops in, swerving around Ben. She walks up to Poe and points to herself. Poe laughs.

“Okay, sure,” he snorts. “Just don’t shoot anything unless we tell you to.”

Rey pumps her fists into the air. Poe hands her the helmet and she marvels at it, can’t stop grinning as she tries it on. As she spins around, she catches Ben’s eyes through the visor.

He’s smiling, only slightly.

“You’re quiet,” she comments.

“What am I supposed to say? Have fun flying and don’t shoot anyone?”

“You know I’ll be careful, Daddy.”

Poe roars with laughter.

 

 

  
The room is dark and cool. Quiet, since everyone else is on the opposite end of base. Rey bounces inside and watches as Leia takes her seat, a warm cup of caf by her elbow. The general beckons for Rey to come closer.

“Come, Rey,” she says, a small smile on her lips. She gestures to the pitcher of caf between them. “Want some caf?”

Rey takes a seat.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She scoots closer, instantly changing the topic. “So why did you want to see me? If this is about the time I got too carried away during training and accidentally sliced the—”

Leia raises a palm to stop Rey in her tracks. Rey shuts her mouth as Leia chuckles, her eyes falling shut.

“No, no, it’s not about that,” she takes in a deep breath and then opens her eyes again to meet Rey’s in a steely stare. “It’s about… how you and my son are involved.”

Rey blinks. She can already feel the heat flood her cheeks. She curses herself for the way she grows flustered, for the way Leia only calmly stares back, clearly not believing her words.

“What? No, Ben and I aren’t a couple…”

“Listen, Rey, if he had to be with anyone, I’m glad it’s you. You’re the only one who can match him.” Leia’s smile is wry. “And what happens behind closed doors is none of my business. It’s just that some members have raised  _ concerns  _ about, let’s say, public displays of affection.”

Rey’s jaw drops.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Forgive me, General, but Ben and I aren’t being handsy in public! I wouldn’t ever…”

“I don’t know how to put it delicately,” Leia wonders. She clasps her hands together on the table. “You need to stop calling him Daddy in public. Force knows I don’t care what you two do in bed, but maybe try a more usual petname while you’re in front of other members.”

Rey’s jaw drops.

“I…”

Her face burns crimson.

“It’s a joke,” Rey explains, her throat dry. Maybe she should have taken a cup of caf, because it feels like she’s about to choke on her own saliva. How does she explain this to Princess Leia, the Resistance General who also happens to be Ben Solo’s  _ mother _ ? “It’s just a joke… because he kept acting like a dad and… I wanted to make fun of him… He always gets so embarrassed; I thought it was funny and I didn’t mean to make anyone assume that he and I are, are…”

“Breathe, Rey.”

Rey swallows down a large gulp. It tastes like shame. And sand particles from the Jakku desert. Basically: disgusting.

“I wasn’t sure you knew what you were talking about,” Leia continues, ever as dignified. She’s smirking now, but she still moves with such grace that Rey sinks deeper into her seat. Leia isn’t laughing at her outwardly, which makes it feel even worse. “I know that my son turns crimson every time you mention it, but he’s always been shy. That wasn’t a good enough indication of whether you were serious or not. But I suppose you really aren’t aware of what it means to call him that?”

Rey produces an undignified squeak.

“Have you ever had this talk, Rey?” Leia levels her with a concerned, maternal gaze. Rey would be more touched if she didn’t know where this was going. “You’re a woman now, and if you ever want to explore things, you need to be safe and discreet. If you have any questions, I suggest asking Doctor Kalonia—”

Rey stands up violently. The chair scrapes against the metal floors. Leia blinks up at her.

“I’m sorry, General.” Rey bows her head. “I didn’t know. Honest. I promise I’ll stop doing it.”

Leia’s smile is thin-lipped and somehow the biggest shit eating grin she’s ever seen.

“Only in public, dear.” She waves her off. “That’s all I’m concerned about.”

  
  
  


“Ben, we need to  _ talk,”  _ Rey hisses. She crowds him back inside his quarters, the door sliding shut behind them. Ben’s staying in the most vacant part of base, so she’s sure nobody will hear them here.

She doesn’t stop gripping the front of his sweater. Ben steps backwards, his shoulders stiff.

“What?” he asks, voice low and concerned. Rey finally drops her grip, but they remain inches away from each other—close, too close, too much in each other’s space.

“Leia talked to me,” she says glumly. “Told me off for calling you Daddy in public.”

Ben’s face pales so swiftly that Rey’s surprised he’s still standing.

“My mother?” He croaks. Poor man.

Rey clears her throat. She takes a step back and then breathes, trying to calm herself down. Now she’s hyperaware of the whole situation, of the dust mites dancing in the air behind him, of the light that haloes the soft tufts of his hair. Ben looks at her, back hunched and eyes beseeching, cheeks tinged pink once the blood returns back to his face.

He’s wearing that green sweater again. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pale flash of skin. Revealing strong arms. She’d felt them. She’d felt his chest too when she grabbed onto his shirt.

Rey measures the words in her mouth.

“She said I should stop calling you that in public,” Rey continues. She takes a step closer, rising up on her tiptoes and pointing her chin at his shoulder. “But there’s nothing wrong with it in private, is there?” Rey exhales a shaky breath. “Are you angry at me for embarrassing you, Daddy?”

Ben stands there frozen, his plush lips falling open. His hands hover by his sides before he lifts one up to cradle Rey’s chin with long fingers. Rey’s grin is wicked.

He swallows visibly. The line of his throat is delicious.

“I suppose I am,” he almost growls. “You’ve been a bad girl recently, haven’t you, Rey?”

“I have,” she breathes. Ben’s pupils are dilating in the darkness.

“So, are you going to punish me?”


End file.
